


my galvanized friend

by youaremyscience



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Completely without redeeming value, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaremyscience/pseuds/youaremyscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock & John watch The Wizard of Oz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my galvanized friend

It had been an innocuous statement, a joke really. Walking past a shop with a Valentine’s Day display, Sherlock had turned a faint shade of green. “Is that something – am I meant to do something for you? For that?” and he’d pointed at the pink and red explosion, looking horrified.

John had shaken his head at Sherlock. “Only if you want to.”

“Why should I want to? It’s absurd! Sentimental. You know perfectly well I don’t feel—”

“Yes, all right, Tin Man. No Valentine’s Day.”

Sherlock had crinkled his nose. “What is a tin man?”

So Valentine’s Day plans had indeed been made, and they involved Sherlock begrudgingly settling onto the sofa while John put in a DVD of The Wizard of Oz. Sherlock had promised to give it a fair chance, and within several minutes appeared actually invested in the film – if only to make contradictory statements at it.

“Well that's just absurd, he clearly has ideas, he obviously has a brain!”

John just smiles softly and waits. When the tin man admits his desire for a heart, Sherlock goes quiet and still. He looks almost offended. John sighs and nudges him. “Keep watching.”

Sherlock’s hand slips into John’s almost involuntarily as Toto runs from the Witch, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he gets away. It isn't long before he's acerbic again: “Oh, come on! How cowardly can he be if he’s willing to go in there to save Dorothy?”

John continues to wait, an indulgent smile playing on his lips. When they return to the Wizard, and his trickery is revealed, Sherlock scoffs. He barely conceals his contempt as the 'Wizard' passes out his gifts. “Oh. They all had the things they wanted the whole time.” When the film ends, he draws his hand out of John’s and sniffs dismissively. “A child's morality tale. Frivolous.” But a worried wrinkle has taken up residence between his eyes. John suddenly vaguely regrets the whole thing and decides to head to bed early.

They aren’t sharing a bed, they aren’t sleeping together in any form – they’ve barely kissed, both uncertain in this new thing. John’s pain is too fresh and Sherlock is still too afraid to be vulnerable. His sentimentality had cost him dearly already -- nearly cost him his life, cost him John. John understands this, and is still so angry sometimes he wants to put his fist through something very precious to Sherlock. So he goes to sleep alone, the tune of “If I Only Had a Brain” running through his mind. He is woken by a sudden shift in the mattress and blearily opens his eyes to find Sherlock staring at him intently.

“I have several questions.”

John rubs his face. “Whuzzat?”

“You called me Tin Man. But…The Wizard told him he was better off without a heart anyway! He couldn’t give him one!”

“He didn’t need to give him one, Sherlock, you said it yourself – it was there all the time. And I called you that because you insist on stating you haven’t got a heart when – well, it’s obvious you do.”

“And I didn’t like the end.”

“Why not?”

“He realized he had a heart because Dorothy leaving broke it. He was better off not knowing!”

“Do you think so? He was better off rusted in that forest? With no adventure?” John sits up and leans into Sherlock, who shakes his head minutely.

“Adventure is good. But broken hearts...”

“Better a broken heart than no heart at all,” John quotes, to a blank face. He sighs. “Am I going to have to make you watch more Doctor Who?” Sherlock shakes his head quickly and John laughs. “Clear off you git, I was sleeping.”

“Good night Dorothy,” Sherlock says, slipping out quietly. John hears Sherlock stop on the landing and turn back. He’s got that intense look on, the one that means he’s figured something out. “That's wrong, John. You're not Dorothy. Well, maybe you are a bit. Looking for home.”

John sits back up and peers at Sherlock through the darkness. He pats the bed beside him and sighs when Sherlock sits again, close enough to feel his warmth. “I found home a long time ago, Sherlock. I'm not any of them.”

“I suppose not. You don’t much want for courage. And despite what I’ll sometimes say, you’ve got a perfectly fine brain.”

“I'm not any of them, never have been.”

Sherlock trails a finger over the back of John’s hand. “No adventures?”

John shakes his head. “Someone has to keep things in Oz running while everyone else finds what they're lacking.”

“Are you sure you wouldn't be more at home in Munchkin Land?” Sherlock laughs when John’s pillow hits him square in his face. John feels Sherlock scoot somehow even closer, feels his breath against his cheek. “No John, you're acting like you aren't important.” Sherlock huffs in frustration and leans his forehead against John’s, brushes his lips against the bridge of John’s nose. “I'd say you were the wizard, but he said hearts were impractical. You wouldn't say that, would you John? You could love someone even if it was impractical. Couldn't you?” There is a desperation in his voice. “I don't want to realize I have a heart just to have it broken.”

“Well, I’m not leaving. So there’s no worry there.” John wraps his fingers around Sherlock’s wrist, feels the pulse there and shuts his eyes against a wave of memory. Sherlock goes very quiet for a few minutes, and John feels himself drifting back to sleep. He still hears the near-whisper from Sherlock.

“But he said having a heart means being loved by others.”

“Then that's settled, Tin Man. You have the biggest heart of all,” John whispers, by now feeling slightly ridiculous about the entire conversation. It’s surprising how the press of Sherlock's lips against his own makes that feeling fade. Sherlock pulls away with a bit of regret.

“John. I have several more questions.”

“Go on, then.”

“Why exactly did the water make the Witch melt? It’s highly illogical. I’m assuming that Oz was meant to be another planet, but clearly the life-forms were similar enough to humans that Dorothy was able to survive there so it wouldn’t follow that the Witch would be composed of something incompatible with water--” John flops back onto his pillow, humming with pleasure when Sherlock follows and tucks his face into John’s shoulder, still rattling off the flaws in the premise of the film.


End file.
